Proterno
by EarlGreyLeaf
Summary: Draco did not like the way Ginny was looking at Harry. Not one bit.


Draco did not like the way Ginny was looking at Harry. Not one bit.

That trollop.

A particularly vicious stab to his shepherd's pie emphasised Draco's irritation, and also sent green peas skittering across the long oak table. Fellow Slytherins cast sidelong glances his direction, but said nothing, assuming the blonde was in one of his 'moods.' Between angry mouthfuls, he chanced glares at the Gryffindor table.

The Weaslette was nearly throwing her spindly self at Potter. She had relinquished her normal seat in favor of Longbottom's, at Potter's right side, and presently looked as though she was trying to discreetly climb onto the boy's lap. The repeated batting of her too-pale eyelashes left the girl looking like she had a rather bad twitch. Potter's apparent disinterest, based on his subconscious shifting away from the ginger, seemed to only spur her determination.

Draco watched in resentment as the bony girl managed to finagle her arm through the brunette boy's. Just as she managed to do so, Potter reached quickly forward to retrieve his goblet, smoothly detaching himself. The Weaslette frowned.

Draco couldn't tell whether the neglect was intended, or if the boy was just dense.

Draco's attention returned to his abused dinner, mashed and prodded into an unappetizing mixture. He pushed the plate away in favour of a portion of strawberry savarin. He sliced and speared a piece, popping it into scowling mouth. The rich sauce washed over his tongue, followed by the satisfying texture of the buttery cake. It distracted him briefly from the situation across the Great Hall.

He took a moment to glance about his own House. Blaise was meticulously and silently working on an essay to his left. Pansy was speaking in quick, hushed whispers across from Blaise, gossiping no doubt. Further down were the younger Slytherins. To his right, Crabbe and Goyle sat with the rest of their year, grunting in their opinions about whatever the topic of conversation was.

Needing to redirect his stress, Draco resolved to bother the person nearest to him. He snatched the parchment from under Blaise's nose, and peered at it, dangling it between two fingers as if it could bite.

"What's this for, anyway?"

"It's for Arithmancy, and is due in the morning," the dark-skinned boy replied, sighing exasperatedly, "Give it back."

Draco tossed the paper back on the table, "Only you would take such a dull subject."

"Dull as it may be, Draco," Blaise started, smoothing his essay, "It's a requirement of anyone hoping to become a professional Curse-Breaker."

"Is that what you're hoping for?"

"Possibly. It never hurts to have more than one plan."

Draco leaned back, folding his arms. An amused look passed over his face, "How ironic. A Death Eater's son, a _Curse-Breaker_."

Blaise mumbled incoherently, dabbing a spot of gravy from the paper's corner. Knowing his housemate would say nothing more, Draco shifted his gaze over to the right, feigning boredom as Goyle retold some tall tale. His thick, short arms waved precariously, almost upsetting Millicent Bullstrode's and Tracy Davis' dinner plates.

Theo and Daphne Greengrass were poring earnestly over an issue of The Daily Prophet left from breakfast. The cover proudly declared _'Falmouth Falcons Bombed by Bigonville!_' In the tiny font below, the newspaper claimed it was the first large win the Bigonville Bombers had managed in over three decades.

All local sources of amusement depleted, Draco's eyes found themselves back on the Gryffindor table.

Just in time to see the little tramp put her paws on Potter's leg. He could only watch in disgust as she leaned towards the Boy-Who-Lived, doing her very best to flaunt her poor excuses for breasts.

Draco slammed his fork down irately. Utterly shameless.

A sudden idea struck him.

Slipping his wand out of his robe pocket, eyes still on Goyle, he motioned under the table.

"_Proterno."_

A loud clang sounded, and he heard a girl shriek.

His mouth tilted in a smirk. Chancing a sidelong look at the Gryffindors, he saw the ginger girl on her feet, hastily brushing juice and food bits from her robes, face twisted in disgust and confusion. Potter had scooted further down the bench, avoiding the debris with a bemused look. The Weaslette shot those surrounding her a poisonous glare, but they barely stifled their laughter. The Slytherin watched cheerfully as she mouthed a quick '_Scourgify_,' and stormed out of the Hall.

However, he failed to notice two piercing green eyes watching him from across the room.

* * *

Madam Pince had to all but physically remove him from the library that evening. Nightfall had long since cloaked the castle, and he was forced to begrudgingly leave his studying behind in the one place he could find peace from his two constant followers.

Some found roaming the halls of Hogwarts at night unnerving. There were so many dark places and strange noises. Draco, however, found it quite nice. So many deliciously interesting things could happen after the halls grew quiet.

A yawn escaped him, and he stretched his arms upward, bringing them down behind his head.

It was a soft tap behind him, mid-way down a spiral staircase, that had Draco whirling around, wand at the ready. His back hit the wall, a warm body colliding with his, holding him fast against the cool stone.

"That was quite a stunt you pulled this morning."

Their breath came in anxious pants. Draco laughed, a smirk tilting his lips upwards, "You know I don't like people touching my things."

"So I'm your '_thing_'now?" Harry remarked, humour colouring his words.

"Of course you are," Draco breathed, voice dropping intimately, "I've marked you so _many_ times."

His hand slipped low to a place that it was _very_ familiar with. The Gryffindor hissed. A blush bloomed across his tanned cheeks, one that Draco found incredibly attractive. The blonde moved his fingers rhythmically, earning a low groan for his efforts. His smile grew wider.

"I suppose I shall have to mark my property more clearly this time."


End file.
